Arcane: In This New World

The morning air carried the crisp chill of dawn as Tarren stood at the edge of the Bridge of Progress. The sun had barely begun its slow crawl over the horizon, casting the city of Piltover in muted golds and grays. The streets, usually teeming with activity, were only sparsely populated at this hour—an intentional choice on Tarren's part. The fewer eyes on this meeting, the better.

He clicked open his pocket watch, the rhythmic ticking the only sound cutting through the hush besides the occasional whinny of the horses hitched to the carriage behind him. He focused on the steady movement of the hands, measuring each second with patience.

Then, at the far end of the bridge, movement.

Tarren's fingers tightened around the watch as he snapped it shut. The rhythmic ticking ceased, replaced by the sound of his own breath. The man of the hour had arrived—but he wasn't alone.

Vander, broad-shouldered and solid as a stone wall, walked steadily. His presence was expected. It was the man walking beside him that made Tarren quite surprised.

Silco.

The man moved with a snake's grace, his sharp features betraying no expression beyond vague amusement. His singular, piercing eye locked onto Tarren the moment their gazes met, as if weighing him like one would a piece of raw meat before a meal.

Tarren didn't move, didn't let his expression waver. He had known this negotiation would be difficult for Vander, but now that that man is here, it has taken an entirely different shape.

As they came to a stop in front of him, Tarren let his gaze flick to Vander before returning to Silco. He exhaled slowly, schooling his expression into cold neutrality.

"You brought a rat," he said evenly.

Vander sighed, his broad hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Now, now, Tarren. You know I'm not much for speeches. I needed someone who could talk."

"So you brought a rat instead."

Silco chuckled, the sound light but without warmth. "Remind me—who is this again?" he mused, turning his gaze to Vander. "Ah, right. The one who ran across the bridge all those years ago. The boy who buried his blade in the doctor's—"

Before Silco could finish, Tarren spoke out. "Do you still hear the water when you close your eye?"

Silco's smirk faltered for just a moment. The tension between them was sharp enough to cut.

"That's enough." Vander's voice was firm, a warning. He turned back to Tarren. "Listen, I know this isn't what you wanted. But you have to trust me. He's… changed. We want the same thing now. A future for our people."

Tarren let out a humorless chuckle. "Sure." His eyes flicked to Silco. "We'll see how much truth there is in that when he opens his mouth in front of the council."

Silco's lips curled into something that might have been a smirk if it weren't so razor-sharp. "And what, exactly, have you heard about me, young man? That I'm a cruel gang leader? A ruthless drug lord?"

Tarren merely gestured to Silco's missing eye. "How's your vision these days? Ah, right. No shimmer to fix that, is there? Had to take it out of the socket entirely. Shame. You might've looked the part of a proper kingpin if you'd kept it. Now you look like a decrepit old man."

Silco's expression darkened, but he didn't rise to the bait.

Vander placed a heavy hand on Tarren's shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "Tarren," he said, his voice quieter now, more measured. "Please. I wouldn't have brought him if I didn't believe he was on the same side."

Tarren exhaled through his nose, staring at Vander for a long moment before finally nodding. "Fine. But don't thank me just yet." He glanced back toward the carriage, motioning for them to follow. "The council isn't exactly eager to hear you out. And with him here—" his gaze flicked toward Silco, "—I don't expect them to be any more agreeable, especially if you all show any signs of hostility. Just remember, this is a negotiation, not a declaration of war."

Silco stepped past him, placing a gloved hand on the carriage door. "Oh, but negotiation is always a war. Of wit." he murmured before slipping inside.

Tarren sighed before glancing at Vander. The older man gave him a small, reassuring nod before climbing into the carriage after Silco.

For a brief moment, Tarren stood outside, staring at the city skyline ahead. With Silco being here, he didn't know what would happen. Will it become worse? better?

But alas, the bridge had already been crossed.

With one last breath, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

—

Inside the carriage, silence stretched between them, thick and tense. Tarren's gaze drifted to Silco's ruined eye again, though not out of disdain. No, it was something deeper—contemplation. The weight of consequence. Silco wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to have this… look. This wasn't part of the future he had once glimpsed, the original nor the alternate of the original. Once again he is reminded that the future had changed in ways he couldn't fully grasp.

Silco eventually broke the silence, his voice casual, but laced with something unreadable. "That tower." He nodded toward the window, where the skeleton of Piltover's future loomed. "I hear that's your doing. Magic, eh?" He chuckled. "Imagine if you had devoted yourself to Zaun instead. If you had built wonders like that for us instead of them."

Tarren didn't look away from the window. "I doubt I could do that. Zaun isn't exactly full of resources to develop something like that."

"Resources can be smuggled," Silco mused. "It's not as difficult as you think."

Tarren let out a short, humorless laugh. "Hex-gems are rare. The ones willing to mine them even rarer. And in a world where I 'devote' myself to Zaun, I'd probably end up working for you. Just like Dr. Reveck did."

Silco chuckled, though it held no real amusement. "Ah, Dr. Reveck. What a nostalgic name. A shame what you did to him."

"It was necessary." Tarren leaned back, arms crossed. "You of all people should understand that. You're the one who commissioned him."

"Then why didn't you kill me instead?" Silco's tone was sharp, probing. "His goals were… self-driven, but it was not a bad goal."

"A man with strong goals like him will do anything to achieve it, even if it means destroying everything around him. As for why I didn't kill you instead…" Tarren stated, shifting his gaze to Vander, who had been quietly listening. When he looked back at Silco, his answer was softer. "You were someone's brother once."

Silco let out a short, barking laugh, shaking his head. "You know a lot, don't you?" He turned to Vander. "Did you tell him?"

"No." Vander frowned. "Now I'm wondering too. How do you know so much?"

Tarren rolled his eyes. "There are a lot of people around you, Vander. They talk."

Vander exhaled. "People sure love to run their mouths."

Before the conversation could continue, the carriage came to a stop. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing an enforcer standing stiffly at attention. Beyond him, the imposing entrance to the Piltover Academy loomed, flanked by more guards than usual.

Vander stepped out first, followed by Silco. Tarren made to follow, but before he could take a step forward, the enforcer's hand shot up, blocking his path.

"Only the representatives may enter the council chamber," the enforcer stated firmly. "I hope you understand."

Tarren clenched his jaw, inhaling deeply before stepping back. He watched as Vander and Silco disappeared into the building, the heavy doors closing behind them.

Left alone on the steps of the academy, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets.