Chapter 9 – Ezreal's New Challenge
With the debut of the Arcane animated series on Netflix, I have decided that this chapter needs a rather large rework. Although the outcome will remain pretty much stay the same, and the structure will mostly remain as it currently is, the specifics of the characters and settings featured and dialogue are subject to major change. For now, pleasure treat this chapter as a baseline for the progression of this fanfic and the story arc that follows from it.
The delayed sunrise shone over Piltover: the City of Progress. It was known for its thriving market; huge influence in trade and commerce over Valoran; continuous scientific advancements; distinct lack of crime and infraction; multicultural society and overwhelming happiness levels. The chances were that if you were born in Piltover, your family history would be interlinked with the aristocratic nobility, artisans of science or art, and highly intelligent economists who probably were on good terms with non-corrupt Zaunites.
Although it is arguable that Zaun lay the foundations for Piltover to grow to the alpha city it was, the City of Progress literally stands high over Zaun by a large cliff. It was the desire of many from Zaun and other regions in Valoran to become expatriates in Piltover's first-world settlement.
Like in all developed nations, there were families who were famous by name alone. Clan Medarda were known for hosting an annual convention call "Progress Day" where aspiring craftsmen and craftswomen would line up inside the Medarda's ostentatious mansion and display their hextech and techmaturgical inventions, hoping to impress the family with their unique designs, which could potentially make its way into Piltovan markets, along with the inventor gaining fame, wealth and reputation. "Hextech" is a coined portmanteau, which delineates the fusion of magic and technology, and was the distinguished forte of Piltover's industry.
But outside of Progress Day, every other day of the year ran like clockwork, guided by the massive clock-tower next to the Ecliptic Vaults – Piltover's securest bank – and the Piltovan Treasury on Sidereal Avenue. Well, up until the 24-hour clock became useless due to the Aspect of Twilight's irresponsibility.
Jago Medarda was sitting on the balcony of his mansion. As the head of the Medarda Clan, Jago held the duty of maintaining their business and pride. As was the case in Piltover, there were rival families with similar prestigious involvement in the hextech market. The Ferros Clan, headed by the only surviving child of Rhodri and Gemma Ferros: Camille – known as the "Gray Lady" – worked with rare hextech crystals that were harvested from Shurima. Clan Cadwalder was another reputable family of engineers known for their contributions to locomotives in Piltover.
Jago's wife was inside, who had been wide awake before dawn and was almost falling asleep. She had not acclimatised to the sudden five hour extension of the day. Virtually no one in Piltover had for that matter. The issue had been recognised by the council but action had yet to be. The ordeal was so sudden that all daily work and programmes of a regular working day had come to a screeching halt. This included the Medarda's industry of hextech machinery production.
The reasons for the sun's sudden deceleration, as well as the appearance of a second shattered moon was beyond explanation as of right then. The expectations of sea levels rising and tides becoming more ferocious were not met either. There had to be a reason for why the seas were not behaving abnormally in spite of the new moon, but years of scientists studying physics and marine oceanography would've said that what was seen now would be a near impossibility.
Jago's butler came onto the balcony. 'Excuse me, Mr Medarda. You've been sent a letter.'
'If it's about business enquiries, write back to them on my behalf, saying that I'll meet them in two days time.'
'It's not from any artisan or business, Sir. It's from Mayor Vincent.'
'The Mayor of Piltover, you say?'
'Yes, Sir.'
'Alright then, hand it over.' he demanded.
The butler held the letter in the palm of his hand for his master to pick up delicately.
'Oh, and give me a refill of lemonade.' he added, pointing at the empty glass on the circular table next to him.
'Of course, Sir.' said the Butler subserviently. He picked up the glass and walked back into the mansion.
Jago put on his reading glasses and began to read the letter.
Dear Mr J. Medarda,
As you may well know, the City of Progress is currently at a standstill, for the first time in history, ever since the sun has seemingly slowed down. Schedules have been delayed and the market is at risk of stagnating.
As things seem so far, any minor business on the free market is vulnerable to crash. In turn, as I'm sure a businessman like yourself could deduce, as smaller stockholders lose money, so do the bigger ones that provide for the smaller ones and the shareholders. If the daily cycle is not fixed, or at least adapted to suit the abrupt change in day and night, then Piltover will suffer from an economic bust and this in turn will have a drastically negative impact on the rest of Valoran. This includes the city of Demacia, Bel'Zhun, Bilgewater, Dudtown, Ironwater, Rokrund and a myriad of other regions who are contingent on our exports.
Because this issue is apropos to you and your family, I am inviting you to a meeting at the Grand Court Hall in Horologica Avenue in thirty-three hours (assuming that you receive this telegram within three hours of me having sent it).
At this conference, we will go over a few pertinent issues. We will discuss the future for Piltover's working hours, communication between other regions and how they will reorganise their respective daily routines – so that Valoran may come to a universal agreement on how the economic cycle will operate – and finally an exploration scheme to investigate the earthquakes that occurred across the eastern seas.
Although I cannot pinpoint the source of this claim, word has it that a pilot was sent on a survey mission across the eastern seas towards what should otherwise have been western Valoran. Instead, the pilot reported that he flew over the edge of the continent and saw a civilisation that does not correlate with any already known region in Runeterra.
This new land may be a place of interest to Piltover. It could be an opportunity for new trade routes to be opened overseas, following an expedition that may need to be organised prior to this, to confirm it for ourselves of course. Nothing has been decided, but I intend to resolve some of the problems that confront us right now, as soon as possible.
If I can have your word that you are coming to the meeting in Horologica Avenue soon, then I would greatly appreciate it and I look forward to discussing the future of Piltover with you.
Take care and I look forward to hopefully seeing you soon.
Yours sincerely,
Mayor B. Vincent
Jago read through the letter two more times, scrutinising each word. He was wary around the council, since he ran a free market and firmly believed that it was no real business of the state what he did with his earnings. Whilst he could not deny the Mayor's sound logic in what he had written, Jago always held suspicion of politicians leeching off of his income to line their own pockets.
Regardless though, he was willing to attend the conference if it was for the betterment of himself and Piltover as a whole.
The butler came back with a full glass of lemonade. 'Here you go Sir.'
'Thank you.' said Jago. 'Oh and please, send a letter back to the Mayor. Just confirm to him that I will be attending the meeting that he has called for.'
'Absolutely Sir.' the butler replied.
Jago slumped back in his chair, enjoying the last few hours of sun before going to work.
There were five hours left until the meeting. Jago had taken a soapy shower and after he had dried, he put on fine crimson red robes, thin white trousers and thoroughly polished black shoes. He had briefly informed his wife about the meeting with the Mayor, but was not able to tell her when he would be back. The length of any given conference was unpredictable and depended on how concise the attendants could be in what they said or how much there was to discuss.
He walked out of the large white alabaster doors and stepped into the carriage that would take him towards Southern Piltover which was off the hilly greens of Northern Piltover. Jago was perfectly capable of walking, but like many wealthy men, he could afford to be lazy and not use his legs. The carriage ride by horse was surprisingly smooth down the hill. Maybe the community service team had at long last done some work to rid the pathway of the littered bumps.
Central Piltover was iconic for the beautiful architecture everywhere you looked. Any photograph would make a great postcard. The streets were rather empty in the tardy afternoon daylight. Despite the lack of a cohesive market, purveyors had still set up stalls with their various goods on display, yelling to attract the attention of anyone who strolled by.
A lot of Piltover's attentive citizens could recognise the Medarda carriage based on its extravagant design with dark green paint, red wheels, golden plating at the corners and that fact that it was pulled by a snowy white horse.
The carriage arrived in Horologica Avenue and stopped. The horse rider got down and opened the carriage door for his master. Jago stepped out and looked towards the Grand Court.
'Do you wish for me to stay here?' said the horseman.
'Yes, although I may be in there for a long time.' He pulled out some money from his robes and handed it to the horseman. 'You can go and buy some tisane tea if you wish.'
'Thank you most graciously, Master!' said the horseman gratefully.
Jago opened the doors to the Grand Court. Two men in suits were there to greet him. 'Ahh, Mr Medarda, please, come this way.'
They escorted him up one set of stairs and through a narrow corridor with various rooms on both sides, until they eventually made it to the end of the corridor. Jago was under the impression that he was going to go inside the main double doors to the actual courtroom, but they instead led him through a door on the right. The wallpaper all the way around was a light green colour with a pattern of long green plant stems and red roses at the top. The carpet was a beige colour that contrasted heavily with the colour of the walls. The back wall had a long, rectangular window that looked outwards to the street, however they were tinted, so no one could see inside.
In the centre of the room was a large, oval shaped, teak wooden table. Seven people were already sitting around it. Three people he recognised, the others he did not. At the end of the table sat the Mayor. He had a black suit, with everything being black except his white shirt. His hair was beginning to whiten, but he still carried a young charisma. He stood up and went to shake hands with the new arrival. 'Mr Medarda. It is good to see you!' he said delightfully.
'And it is an honour to be in your presence.' Jago returned, albeit less fervently.
The second person he recognised was the head of the Cadwalder family: Egos Cadwalder. He was slightly overweight, and wore similar robes to Jago, only they were royal blue instead of red. He sat closest to the door where Jago had entered.
The third person he knew by name and face was Caitlyn, the most active sheriff in Piltover. She was often referred to as "The Sheriff of Piltover", although there was another officer siting right next to her. Caitlyn was relatively young and regarded by many as being incredibly good looking. She wore a blue shirt and had her blue hair tied up in a ponytail. Strangely she wore no hat on, which was an iconic fashion choice of hers.
Caitlyn was often present, along with other wardens, at Jago's mansion during Progress Day. She was in charge of making sure that none of the inventions submitted for judgement were lethal and also sniffing out anyone suspicious. At the previous Progress Day, the last contestant – Tamara Lautari – was discovered to be a Noxian Spy. Caitlyn's meticulous detective skills and thorough attention to detail made her an indispensable asset to Piltover's police department. The second police officer next to her, Mohan, had short brown hairand wore a blue shirt like Caitlyn. The two of them were sat in front of the window.
The remaining three were presumably members of the council, based on their suits. One of them sat beside Caitlyn next to the window, whilst the rest were positioned at the opposite side of the table, next to the Mayor.
Jago took his place next to Egos. The two aristocrats held mutual contempt for each other, based on a competitive nature to stand out in the Piltovan market.
Mayor Vincent cleared his throat. 'Thank you all for coming!' he said. 'Before we begin, I think not all of us know each other's names, so let's go around and say them out loud. I'm Mayor Bran Vincent.'
The order went anticlockwise from the Mayor's position.
'I'm Sam.'
'Varon.'
'Egos.'
'Jago.'
'Mohan.'
'Caitlyn.'
'Jackley.'
'Excellent.' said the Mayor and rubbed his hands together. 'Now, let's get down to business. As we discovered approximately ninety-four hours ago, the length of daytime and night-time has somehow increased. We don't know yet by what means. The most likely answer we can say so far is that Runeterra has begun to spin slower on its axis, but further evidence of unusual activity and discoveries could suggest something else entirely.'
'Is this the presence of the second moon in the sky?' Varon asked.
'Yes.' the Mayor confirmed. 'Additionally, oceanographers have observed that there is no change in the behaviour of the seas and the tides. A second moon should have a drastic effect on the waves, but no such difference has been noticed.'
'So what does this mean then?' asked Jackley. 'How can planetary activity like this be explained? You should have invited some scientists to this meeting as well.'
'I have asked for some astronomers here in Piltover to do some research into Runeterra's cosmological history and study the sky to see if they can decipher what is going on. I'm hoping that we'll get an answer soon.'
Jackley had a notepad and pen in hand. He was the one taking all the notes during the meeting.
'Could you elaborate on the other stuff you mentioned in your letter to me?' Egos ordered.
'Yes, Mr Cadwalder. We detected some severe earthquakes out on the eastern seas. They weren't close enough to affect home, but their sheer power should have created gargantuan tsunamis. As things have turned out, there have been no tsunamis whatsoever. Both this and the unexpected lack of change in the waves. It blows my mind, I tell you.'
'Runeterra got its name for a reason.' Sam commented. '"Magic Earth." It wouldn't be completely against our comprehension for some sort of magic to be at work here.'
'It could be because of the Targonians.' Varon suggested. 'Magic exists in our society, and probably even more so in theirs. I wouldn't put it past any religious group on Mount Targon to have prayed to their deity and for said deity to have done something to the planet. Isn't there an austere group over there called the "Solari"?'
'There's also the "Lunari".' Caitlyn added. 'There's a religion about the sun and one about the moon.'
'Maybe that's it then. We can point our fingers at the Targonians and say they're to blame for disrupting order in Valoran.' said Varon in a decisive tone.
'No we can't.' said Caitlyn. 'There's not enough evidence for us to point squarely at them and say they're the culprits. Even if we could conclusively say that it was them, the ones responsible for the second moon and the slowing down of the planet's rotation would be the gods. It would be pointless to try and arrest people from a region that's miles away from here – let alone gods.'
'I agree!' said Jago. 'The matter of how this mess happened can wait. Let's talk about the more practical aspect of the situation: how we handle trade and work around twenty-nine-hour long days.'
'Yes, of course!' said the Mayor. 'How should we approach working hours? If there are about five hours extra per cycle, we need to decide how we distribute those other five.'
'If we're going to figure that out, we first need to establish the starting point of the cycle: when is it the next day?' said Mohan. 'Do we add two hours and thirty minutes to what we consider to be day and night respectively?'
'Has someone even measured the exact hours of when the sun is risen and when it is down?' asked Sam.
'I received word that, yes, there are approximately two and a half hours extra of sunlight and no sunlight. More specifically, there is an extra two hours and forty-one minutes of daytime and two hours and thirty two minutes of night-time: so five hours and thirteen extra minutes in total.' said the Mayor.
'If we work in numbers, then we could add extra hours to the traditional clock of twelve hours A.M and twelve hours P.M.' said Mohan. 'Instead of going up to just twelve O'clock we could go up to fourteen O'clock and a half on each side.'
'But how do we work around those extra thirteen minutes?' Sam asked. 'Where do we shove those in without breaking the consistent cycle of exact time throughout each day?'
'Well thirteen divided by two is six point five. Fourteen hours and thirty minutes plus six minutes and thirty seconds is fourteen hours, thirty-six minutes and thirty seconds.'
'But that just sounds awkward.' said Sam responded. 'How do we put that exact time onto an analogue clock? A lot of citizens in Piltover are used to the clock-tower as their guide for the day.'
'Things are awkward enough as it is. What other choice do we have? We can start producing digital clocks with an additional five hours, and thirteen minutes. Whilst there is technically more day than night, we can simplify this as best we can by adding an equal amount of time to A.M and P.M.' Mohan concluded.
'That sounds like a good idea so far.' said the Mayor. 'We'll be needing a body of people to start producing these clocks then.'
'I can do that for you, Mr Mayor.' Jago and Egos said simultaneously. They glared at each other.
The Mayor chuckled. 'Oh, gentlemen! You're always trying your hardest to outdo each other. The way things are going, we'll probably need as many corporations as we can trying to work on new clocks for everyone, especially if we've going to export them to other regions.'
'But before we do that Mr Mayor, we need to actually come to an agreement that this is going to happen.' Jackley pointed out. 'I suggest that we contact other regions that Piltover has strong economic influence over to make sure that they're in compliance with us.'
'Well yes: absolutely Jackley.' the Mayor responded. 'That's why we're gathered here right now. If we decide collectively that Mohan's idea is the most pragmatic one we can come up with, then I will pass on the idea to other regions and see if they're willing to accept it. Assuming they do, I will sign a document which will legally implement this change and then we'll just have to adapt working hours and nonworking hours to a twenty-nine-hour day cycle.'
'It's worth noting that this will likely cause an economic decline initially.' said Caitlyn. 'This might also encourage crime and theft during these uncertain times.'
'Good point Caitlyn, but as your bright young, fellow sheriff has just told us, this is probably the best we can do. You might be on double overtime during these upcoming months, but I have faith in your colleagues that this shouldn't be too much of an issue for a very capable police force. I still shiver when I think about how your girl Vi just smashed her way into the Ecliptic Vault! Oh, it was so awesome!'
Caitlyn shrugged. 'It's just a warning to you, Mr Mayor.' she replied.
'And I greatly appreciate it.' replied the Mayor earnestly.
'Is it even worth mass producing so many clocks though?' asked Varon. 'We still don't know what caused Runeterra to become like this. What if this new moon and extension of daytime are just ephemeral occurrences? Is it wise to prime the pump into something that might become redundant shortly?'
'That is true,' said the Mayor 'but if an entire moon has just begun to orbit Runeterra, which may have affected the rate at which it rotates, it's likely that a planet sized dilemma isn't going away anytime soon.'
'We just need to think about the risks and possible outcomes, Mr Mayor.'
'Yes Varon, but right now the immediate problem that has to be solved is the potential economic crisis. Nothing is certain right now, but we can try our best to make progress. Now then, this leads on to my final point for today: the discovery of a new continent.'
'What do you mean by that?' asked Jackley.
'As we commenced the meeting, we said the focus had to be on resolving the economic situation, but now we can talk in more detail about what has happened in the rest of Runeterra. I only mentioned it briefly in my letters to Jago and Egos, but I received word that a pilot went on a scouting mission across the eastern seas to investigate the location where the earthquakes took place. Upon going out there, he discovered a continent that he had never seen before on Runeterra. He flew over it and his reports say that there were people, but he didn't dare to land on the ground in case they were hostile. What do we say to this, lady and gentlemen?' asked the Mayor.
Everyone looked around at each other. On top of everything mentioned so far, this was the most unbelievable. Everything else they had seen with their own eyes – the shattered moon and the extension of day and night – but an entirely new continent and civilisation just appearing out of nowhere seemed even more unlikely.
'Where did this piece of information come from.' Jago asked.
'In truth, I don't know the origins.' the Mayor admitted.
'Then how can you be even close to sure that this is true then? Even if the source is unclear, where did you yourself hear it from?'
'From a Piltovan journalist. She was relayed the message from Bilgewater through an import of fish, but that's as far as I know.'
'And are you insisting that it's true based on that alone?' Jago asked in disbelief.
'Not necessary. Rather, I am inviting you to consider the possibility of it, and by extension, the benefits that could come with it.'
'Might I ask what you mean by the term, "Pilot"?' Sam asked. 'I thought that flying machines were the stuff of myths, or at least have yet to be invented.'
'If I may add a counter to that assertion, the only possible place that could produce a pilot, and information that has struggled to maintain a clear origin, might be the alleged Bandle City.' Caitlyn contributed.
'You mean that place where Yordles supposedly reside?' said Jago with a dismissive tone. 'Why would you assume that?'
'It is more an educated guess based on the analysis of what we do know already and places or people that might fit this criteria.' Caitlyn went on. 'Bandle City has been topic of debate amongst scholars and archaeologists for centuries. Their way of life is unknown, but the perceived nature of Yordles suggests that they are highly and magically advanced, and if the Yordles were the ones who discovered this continent, then it would be understandable that an enchanted land with unclear whereabouts such as Bandle City would have trouble with spreading information whilst preserving their anonymity. Thus, the source of the discovery becomes blurred, but the extend of the truth in the claim doesn't change.'
'But again, do you propose this as a fact? Was it the Yordles who discovered the new continent and were somehow able to pass the news on to humans?'
'No. As the Mayor did with you just now, I invite you to consider the idea. It's just a theory, but one based on induction.'
'Okay I get what you're saying, but this seems pointless to talk about.' Egos interrupted. 'Even if it is true and there is a new continent with people on it, what use is there for a land that's really far away?'
'It's the potential for discovery, trade routes and gaining new territory. Who knows what we can gain from it.' said the Mayor.
'But Mr Mayor, there are so many things that are unclear.' said Varon. 'We don't know for sure if there is any new land at all. If the information did come from Bandle City, I don't say that we trust it with confidence. Yordles and humans don't have the closest of relations with each other. And even if it is true, we don't know if there's anything worth going there for; we don't know how potentially dangerous the journey there may be, and we don't know if the people there are savages. It takes several days to sail from Piltover to Bilgewater or Ionia. That's a lot of food needed for the captain and the crew. If this is far out at sea and only a flying machine is able to get there promptly, are we really going to make a move to do something that might be a complete waste of time, money and resources, and at worst could be fatal?'
'I didn't say that we were definitely going to try and travel all the way to the new continent, but I just brought up the idea. I'm not going to withhold information or mention it with no reason to do so. Besides, I know someone who would be more than up for the challenge of travelling there.'
'Who..?' asked Caitlyn.
'Why none other than Piltover's Prodigal Explorer: Ezreal!'
'I thought you were going to say it was him…' said Caitlyn.
'He's perfectly suited for the job, Caitlyn! The thrill of the adventure and the unknown is what Ezreal's all about! You have some contact with him, right?'
'I do.' Caitlyn replied.
'If I wrote a letter, telling him to come here as soon as possible for a potential exploration mission, would you do that for me, Caitlyn?'
'I don't advocate that you do that Mr Mayor, but if you so wish, I can make it happen.'
'How marvellous! I think this is all I wanted us to discuss here today. We've figured out a new time system and now we just need to make contact with other regions to see if they'll be in agreement to switch times zones; we've decided that the Medarda and Cadwalder Clans – along with others who we can make a deal with – will mass-produce new clocks for everyone; Caitlyn, Mohan and the rest of the police force will be working harder for the next few months as the economy gets itself back in line, so you won't get bored sitting down and eating doughnuts all day. That was a joke!' he said quickly when Caitlyn frowned at him. 'And Ezreal will be serving our city by exploring a never seen before land: potentially finding new trading routes and goods to buy and sell!'
'If Ezreal decides to go through with your somewhat profound request.' Caitlyn remarked.
'Ezreal might be serving our city by exploring a new continent altogether!' he corrected himself. 'Well I think we can say that this meeting is adjourned! Thank you for coming here! Have a fantastic rest of your extended day, and take care!'
The seven other attendants in the room bowed in respect and left the conference room.
Bran Vincent may have been ever so slightly on the immature side, but his charming and relatable nature made him one of the best possible candidates for the Mayor of Piltover. He had been elected for a reason.
Ezreal was the embodiment of the Spirit of Adventure in Piltover. His parents had been illustrious traders, taking journeys to dangerous, faraway places. During their adventures, Ezreal was left in the care of his spiritless Uncle Lymere: a professor with little tolerance for Ezreal's passion to follow his parents' footsteps, as well as his unruly behaviour. He enjoyed evading authoritative figureheads and messing with them. His awareness of distance and space allowed him to roam wherever he pleased without getting lost, including hidden passages and underground tunnels.
The Professor got tutors to teach Ezreal about techmaturgy, archaeological history and hextech engineering, but his natural gift for absorbing information without revising made excessive studying a waste of time, since the young boy passed tests so easily.
One day, when Ezreal's parents returned from an expedition, they were determined to leave again soon to the Ne'Zuk tomb and find a rumoured magical gemstone that allowed the user to blink from one place to another in a flash.
Weeks passed after they set out and Ezreal's parents didn't return. Professor Lymere was pessimistic and assumed they were dead, but Ezreal had a spark of hope that they were still alive.
Ezreal collected supplies from the university and set off to Nashramae in Shurima. He uncovered the tomb of Ne'Zuk and set foot inside. The dangers of the catacombs were perilous, but the excitement of freedom pumped adrenaline through the young explorer.
Upon finding the azure blue gem inside a bronze gauntlet, the temple began to collapse inward. Using the tool that he just acquired, he blinked to safety. Ezreal also discovered that the glove could shoot beams of magical light as an offensive weapon: it was the perfect item for his daredevil quests.
Though his mother and father were presumably deceased, Ezreal refused to give up hope. He vowed to continue his parents' legacy by exploring the unknown corners of the world – and possibly make a name for himself. Deep down in his heart he reckoned that if he earned a reputation, his parents would come out of hiding and want to see their son in person again.
Each mission was saturated with clutch escapes and minimal room for error, lest he die, but his heart lay snuggly in adventuring. No Professor could eviscerate such a vital organ from him.
The Prodigal Explorer was lying on his bed at his Uncle Lymere's house, listening to some funky tunes. He had not done any exploring in a month and had been making money off of selling techmaturgial gizmos made by his Uncle, collecting only twenty five percent of the share. His hunger for a new adventure was rumbling and needed to be abated soon.
The doorbell rang. Professor Lymere opened the door. The Sheriff of Piltover was standing outside.
'Is something the matter, Officer?' he asked.
'I have something for Ezreal.'
'What's he done?'
'Nothing. I have a letter for him from the Mayor.' Caitlyn handed the Professor a short letter.
'What does the Mayor want with my nephew?'
'Give him the letter for him to read.' Caitlyn said coolly.
Lymere gave his regards to Caitlyn and went upstairs to give Ezreal the message.
'Hey Ezreal, I've got a letter here for you from the Mayor.'
'The Mayor, you say?' said Ezreal. 'Now what could a busy man like him want me for?'
'Yes.' Lymere tossed the letter to Ezreal and left without saying another word.
Ezreal opened the envelope and began to read.
When he had finished, a boundless smile grew on his face.
The young explorer stood by the docks below the main city. He had supplies of food, clothes, medication, fuel, a tent, a survival kit, a fishing kit, a radio and other essentials. The boat he would be sailing was engine powered. It was effectively a much smaller make of Piltover's trade-ships. A sail could be raised in case he wanted to preserve or ran out of fuel. The Mayor stood by him, along with Sam and Varon.
'Good luck my boy!' he said rapturously, with his hands on both of Ezreal's shoulders. 'I wish you the best of luck! If you make it there and back, please take some photos and bring us some souvenirs!'
'C'mon Mr Mayor, It's me, I was gonna do that anyway.' Ezreal replied in his typical tongue in cheek manner.
Caitlyn stood by the docks too, her signature hextech sniper rifle was leaning against the concrete wall that covered the cliff face, leading back up to Piltover. Right next to her was a scientist and inventor called Jayce. He was versed in making niche, hextech gadgets and had provided some for Ezreal for his quest to the new world. "Use them well." he had simply said when he had handed them over.
The Sheriff walked up to Ezreal. 'Are you sure you want to do this?' she asked.
'Yes!' said Ezreal vehemently. 'This opportunity has me written all over it! You think I would say no to this? Anyway, it's not like you would do it instead.'
Caitlyn fought back the urge knee him in the groin; Ezreal could be very obnoxious sometimes. 'Very well. Don't do anything awfully stupid, and make sure you look after yourself.'
Ezreal smirked. 'Of course.' he promised. 'I know what I'm doing, because I'm a veteran that actually goes travelling. No need to get your knickers in a twist about me.'
The explorer climbed onto the boat. 'No applause please.' he said smugly. 'Just doing what's natural.' He waved to everyone standing on the wharf and set sail.
Everyone watched until the boat was a mere speck of dust in the distance.
The Mayor was in high spirits as he strolled back to his office.
Caitlyn sighed. He would be gone for months and might never return. 'I pray that Janna will be by your side.' she whispered.
From the ledge high up by the main city, the Aspect of Twilight watched as her crush began his long adventure. She made sure that no one was looking before flying out after him.
