The Arcane Trilogy: Better Call Paul - Book 1

Chapter 22: The Duty of a Friend

The night passed painfully slowly for Paul, yet he felt as if it flashed by when he arose from his sleep. He felt as if his mind was wrapped around Josy's fingers, rendering him into nothing more than a plaything for her amusement. He didn't want to rush it and mess it up, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave it too long and mess it up. He always found those trains of thought amusing, that 'The finest legal mind' in all of Piltover was nothing more than wet clay in the hands of the woman he desired.

Paul eagerly prepared himself for the day, bouncing between planning what sort of things he might say or winging it and being 'himself'. It was at times like that, Paul struggled to pinpoint exactly what that would mean.

The café he had chosen had a nice local and snug atmosphere. It was a local business, not connected to a chain of any kind, so it had a more genuine feel to its presentation. In a way, it was the total opposite to 'The Proud Lioness'. Simple and small, as opposed to elaborate and grandiose. In Paul's mind, it felt more appropriate for a casual brunch date, which Paul did try and ignore overthinking about.

As Paul strolled down the relatively quiet Piltovian streets, a crier boy was announcing a peculiar message. As Paul got closer, he could hear the boy better, and the declaration shocked him.

"-plosion in the fairgrounds! Has the Undercity declared war? Read all about it, Read all about it."

Paul approached the young man and flicked him a cog, followed by the lawyer skimming through the front page, to find that the boy was not lying. There was indeed some sort of incident at the grounds, a tent sent ablaze and an explosion that took the lives of a number of enforcers. The Enforcer Department hadn't declared how many. Paul then sat down on a bench that lined the street, running a hand through his hair, his mind flicking through the possibilities.

'Could this be Silco?'

'Why would it be him?'

'Who gains from this?'

As if his thoughts were being read by the very universe itself, an even younger and poorly dressed lad than the crier ran up to Paul, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Mr Goodbrook, telegram for you mister." Proudly declared the little boy, who Paul eyed curiously. He could not remember the last time he received a telegram, especially one outside of work. He cautiously took the thin slip as the boy eagerly ran away back down the road, adding to Paul's confusion. Paul flipped it over and scanned the words that adorned the message.

Paul, as a man of the law, acts of criminality are your specialty. In light of recent events, do you not think it would be prudent to look into the recent explosion? Maybe you could find the one leading the investigation and make them understand what they can and cannot do. It would be terrible for the hard work of some individuals to be a huge waste of their time, due to the answer they seek not being attainable. I trust your judgment in this matter.

Your dear friend

Paul sighed as he looked up into the sky, almost out of desperation. It was a very nicely written message, but when Paul read between the lines, it was very clear one that it came from Silco and thus confirmed his thoughts about what his involvement was. Silco didn't gain from the explosion, so the message to Paul was an attempt to begin the required damage control. The vagueness of the sender all but confirmed their identity. If the boy was stopped or delayed for some reason, the uninitiated would not have anything substantial to go off of by reading the letter. Silco's near immediate response to the explosion was to be commended, as Paul knew that contacting him would not be the only action Silco would be taking to weather the storm. However, it still caused a knot to form in Paul's stomach. His duty called to him, and his date with Josy would have to be scrapped.