Logan wore a smile. Jinx sat to his right, Silco to his left. The long council table was filled with Zaunites, and Logan's calm gaze rested on the councilors.
"What… do you want?" Mel drew a deep breath. When she came in, she'd glanced at Ambessa, then at Salo cowering in the corner, and she immediately understood what had happened.
Salo and Ambessa had launched a sneak attack on Zaun. Zaun fought back. But—how could her mother's strike have failed?
Mel didn't know how Zaun had managed it, but that didn't stop her from understanding the outcome:
Zaun had surpassed Piltover in military power.
Councilor Hoskel waddled forward too, a fawning smile glued to his face as he spoke softly to Logan. "You're Logan, yes? We've seen your photos. You're very young—young even compared to our Councilor Talis."
"What are you trying to say?" Logan looked at Hoskel.
"Mr. Logan, I'm Councilor Hoskel. I imagine you're here because of Salo and Ambessa conspiring to attack Zaun, but I must say—we weren't aware of that matter."
Hoskel continued, "In truth, this was Ambessa and Salo acting on their own. It has nothing to do with Piltover. We have no desire to be your enemy."
Hearing that, Salo lifted his head.
Logan looked over too, curious what kind of expression Salo would wear now that he'd been abandoned.
Salo nodded vigorously and said, "That's correct. That's what I meant."
"It was me acting on my own. I worked with the Noxians and attacked Zaun."
"The reason?" Logan lifted an eyebrow.
Logan's impression of Salo came from the show and their earlier contact.
In the show, Salo already gave off a terrible vibe—soft and slimy, a walking collection of everything Zaunites hated about Piltovans: smug, self-satisfied, arrogant.
Then earlier, in person, Salo had stamped himself with a second set of labels: cowardly, fake, terrified of death.
But now Salo was taking all the blame, letting Hoskel dump everything onto him, willingly becoming the fall guy.
That genuinely surprised Logan.
So… did Salo, a councilor, actually have some admirable qualities after all?
"Because Zaun launched an attack on Piltover and killed quite a few people," Salo said. "I retaliated—to take revenge and catch the criminals. That's why I acted."
He swallowed, his eyes flicking over Hoskel and Mel for a split second.
Mel and Hoskel both understood what Salo was implying.
"You see, Mr. Logan," Hoskel hurried to say, "this was not without cause. Everything was—"
"We attacked Piltover?" Silco tapped the table with his fingers, giving Hoskel a long, meaningful look. "Then tell me the details. When did this 'attack' happen? How many Piltovans died? And how did you determine it was Zaunites who did it?"
Hoskel paused, then answered quickly, "It happened three days ago in the afternoon. The location was a dockside factory at the border between Piltover and Zaun. Thirteen Piltovans died."
"How do you know it was us?" Silco asked.
"They left two bodies at the scene, and their clothes—" Hoskel didn't continue.
Silco laughed. "So it's because of clothes?"
He raised a hand and pointed at someone.
"You. Strip him." Silco ordered one of his men, pointing at—Hoskel.
"!"
Hoskel took a step back, but the Zaunite Silco had indicated was already on him, hands yanking and tearing at his fine clothing.
Hoskel didn't resist.
"Put it on," Silco said, chin propped on his hand, to that Zaunite.
The Zaunite slipped into Hoskel's clothes—luxurious, expensive, with beautiful, intricate gold thread at the cuffs.
Aside from the hairstyle, the piercings, and the tattoos on his face, his whole presence suddenly looked… wealthy. Piltovan, almost.
"Is he a Piltover councilor now?" Silco asked evenly.
No one answered.
"If you can decide it's Zaunites because of clothes," Silco continued, "then can't I decide he's a councilor because of clothes? He's wearing a councilor's outfit. So tell me—what do you think about letting him negotiate with us about Piltover's future, hmm?"
"Don't joke around, Mr. Silco." Hoskel smiled, snapping back into composure as if he hadn't just been stripped in front of everyone.
"Don't try those little tricks on me. For the past three days, your Enforcers have been patrolling the Bridge of Progress nonstop, checking the crossing at every moment, forbidding Zaunites from entering Piltover. And damage on that scale can only be done by a group—but if a large number of Zaunites had climbed over the structures and crossed into Piltover, you would've known before we did."
"Zaunites attacking Piltover?"
"Using petty tricks as a pretext to start a war—giving yourselves a reason to send troops—and then, once you lose, tossing your own responsibility aside and pushing one person out to take the fall… You're fucking ridiculous."
Silco rose, his eyes dark as he stared at Hoskel.
"Zaun won. And the ones who get to write history now… are Zaun."
"You thought you could do what you always did—win, rewrite the record, and write history that says Piltover is the rightful standard and Zaun is backward trash?"
"Go to hell. If I show you respect and call you 'Councilor,' then you're a Councilor. If I don't—then right now you're a dead man. Understand?"
Hoskel's face went green with fury. His eyes looked like they might spit fire.
"What?" Silco stared him down. "Not happy?"
"We've captured over three hundred Enforcers. I only need to say one word and they all go into the sea to feed the sharks. Look around you properly."
Silco's voice was cold.
"I say you're a councilor, then you're a councilor."
Logan sat there obediently, watching Silco tear into the councilors, a faint smile on his face.
This really was something best left to Silco.
"You know the truth better than we do," Silco said, stepping right up to Hoskel. He narrowed his eyes at the plump councilor and spoke in a low, heavy voice. "Don't think you can brush my question aside with that nonsense."
"Now tell me—why did you attack Zaun?"
Hoskel didn't answer. He avoided Silco's gaze.
At last, Mel spoke. "Let me."
"Silco, this really is our fault."
"Mel!" Bolbok grabbed her hand.
Mel pulled free and continued calmly. "Ambessa—my mother—was the one who pushed the plan to attack Zaun. And the incident that caused casualties in Piltover… was done by Noxians."
"This has nothing to do with Zaun. She pushed all of it forward herself. We all knew it."
"But Salo, and a few other councilors… chose to go with the momentum."
Silco looked at Mel. She met his eyes without flinching—neither servile nor arrogant.
Mel spoke firmly. "Piltover is willing to apologize to Zaun, and offer appropriate compensation."
"That's what negotiation is supposed to sound like." Silco clapped his hands once.
"Sevika—give this wise councilor your seat."
Sevika, whose butt hadn't even warmed the chair yet, sighed and stood up.
Mel didn't shrink back. She walked straight to the table and sat down.
Right beside her sat Ekko, his dark skin stark under the harsh council lighting.
"Good," Silco said, returning to his seat. He looked at Logan and smiled. "Boss."
He gave Logan all the respect in the world.
Logan looked at Mel and began counting on his fingers—one by one—until both hands were on the table, one hand spread with five fingers, the other with two.
"Seven conditions. Piltover meets these seven conditions, and we turn the page on this attack—future peace, coexistence, mutual support."
"Now," Logan said with a smile, "I'll tell you what the seven conditions are."
No surprises there. Those seven conditions were something Logan, Silco, and Vander had put together.
Back at the counter of Forgen Tavern, long ago, they'd already drafted their terms.
Well… not exactly.
Back then, it had been five.
The extra two were Logan raising the price on the spot.
Because like Silco said—
Piltover pulled this stunt. Now Zaun was the one in the right.
If I'm in the right, what do I have to be afraid of?
And besides… even when you aren't in the right, doesn't it still come down to whose fist is bigger?
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