Shadows of Valderia: An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir

The rioting began that night. The furious outrage of the Goblins had followed the fleeing police officers all the way back up Cormer’s Broadway, and almost to the heart of the city itself. They had hounded the police, still trying to free Sam’sun and in their wake they had left a trail of destruction. The police set up heavily fortified roadblocks only half a mile from the precinct and every officer had flooded to these barricades. The Goblins threw themselves at the barricades but could not break through. Their numbers dwindled as the rain grew heavier and the casualties mounted. Eventually, after hours of attempting to smash through the barricades, the Goblins finally retreated. But that was only the beginning of the chaos. Riots had erupted to the East as opportunists realised that every precinct in the city had emptied and flooded to protect the main police HQ, leaving the rest of the city unguarded. Fires had been set and general riotous behaviour was being enjoyed by everyday citizens. Every thug with half a brain cell realised it was the perfect chance to fill their boots. Shops were looted. There had been two attempted bank robberies, resulting in one of the banks being lit on fire by a group of petulant villains who left empty handed. The fire spread and soon an entire street was engulfed in flames. The retreating Goblins, dispersed and injured, had run into roaming gangs of Humans from the West and the clashes had been brief but brutal. Only the North remained still: Gnomes were famous for waiting and seeing where the dice would land. By the time the sun rose, barricades had been erected across almost every main thoroughfare in the city. Some of these were manned by police, but many were set up by citizens in an attempt to protect them and theirs. However, most of the looting and robbing was being done by their own communities, so if anything, they had simply trapped themselves in.

Overnight, the Verdalia had stuttered to an almost complete halt. The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air and the wake of destruction left from the night riots wore like scars on the city. The streets were littered with detritus. Smashed glass, broken trees, blood, and so many abandoned weapons and projectiles it was difficult to count them all. Even now, there were still reports of skirmishes and lawlessness flooding in from all over the city.

The police were ragged and exhausted. Many of them had been on shift for over 48 hours and they were bone tired and traumatised by the night’s violence. Timmy and Wally had spent the night on fire duty. They had spent hour after hour, frantically passing buckets, dousing the wood of the barricades, trying to stop Goblins from lighting them on fire. As the sun rose, they dragged their exhausted, sodden bodies back to the precinct. Neither one spoke. They were too tired and they had seen too much to want to do anything other than lay down where they stood and never get back up again. Lines of battered, broken officers limped along behind them in a ragged group towards the precinct. The HQ looked more like a warzone than a police precinct. Coppers were strewn everywhere, some too hurt to move, and others just sat staring at nothing. Everything stunk of smoke and blood. Discarded riot gear, bloodied bandages, and broken truncheons littered the floor of the precinct. Timmy forced one foot in front of the other not even sure where he was going. Eventually, he found himself directed to the canteen where hot breakfast was being served to those still able to eat. After blinking a few times he found himself sitting on the floor in the corner of the eerily silent canteen, staring down at a bowl of porridge. No one spoke. Most of the officers had similarly haunted expressions as him. Wally slid down next to him and placed his tray down. A sob escaped his lips and Timmy saw him wipe at his cheeks with the back of his sleeve.

“It’ll be okay,” Timmy croaked, patting his friend on the back, his voice listless and dull. “Get something hot in you. You’ll feel better.”

Wally nodded and picked up his spoon. They both began to slowly shovel the thin porridge into their mouths. They were famished but the food was still hard to force down. Everything tasted like ash.

“‘Ow could this ‘appen?” Wally whispered.

“I don’t know,” Timmy said, trying to make sense of the last 24 hours.

After the fire in the Goblin Quarter, everything had felt like a lurid nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. They had given their reports, which were resoundly ignored. Timmy had tried to get someone to care, to investigate what had happened, to even take a statement from him, but the station was already in a full panic by then. The word had spread quickly, the Elves wanted to arrest the head of the Goblin clans, Sam’sun Chaw’drak, and everyone knew what would happen if they did. Every copper was chattering excitedly about the politics of the situation, and suddenly everyone was an expert on Goblin-Elf diplomacy. No one cared that a family of innocent creatures had been burned to death. That wasn’t as scintillating as Chaw’drak being arrested. Many officers loudly said it would never happen and that the Elves were just blowing hot air.

Then it did.

The barricades had been thrown up as half the force was sent out to arrest Chaw’drak. Then it turned into a living nightmare. Timmy hastily blinked his eyes trying not to remember. But even as he closed his eyes he saw the Goblin family in that flat. Their hands clawing at the windows as the fire swallowed them alive. He knew he hadn’t heard their screams, but now his ears filled with piteous wailing. Hot tears stung his eyes and his breath came quick and sharp. His breath caught in his throat, he tore at his heavy riot gear, pulling off the breastplate before he suffocated.

“Timmy, are you alright?” Wally said.

Timmy lurched to his feet and threw off his uniform, spilling his bowl of porridge as he stumbled out of the canteen. He needed air. He needed space. He fought his way to the fire exit at the back of the building, dodging stricken officers who had slumped where they were and couldn’t get back up again. Finally, he broke through the door and stumbled out into the weak morning. He wretched once and then slumped against the wall breathing deeply with his eyes closed. He heard the door shut behind him.

“Timmy?”

“I’m okay, Wally. I just needed some air,” he gasped, his eyes still screwed firmly shut.

“Yeah…” Wally said, sitting down on an upturned bin.

His eyes were red rimmed and his face looked gaunter than ever. They remained in silence, breathing heavily, begging the weak sunlight to dispel the shadows that clung to their souls.

“This is so messed up,” Wally said finally. “‘Ow could they do this? Why did they go arresting Uncle Sam for?”

“I don’t know,” Timmy said. “Maybe he had something to do with the Diamond case.”

“That damned Diamond!” Wally snarled, punching the bin in frustration. “Our ‘ole lives ‘ave become cursed every since we heard of that bloody fing!”

Timmy couldn’t argue with that. He leaned his head back again and tried to not throw up.

“Do you… do you think it ‘urt?” Wally said after a few seconds.

“What?”

“That… that family in the tailors… do you think they… were in pain?”

It was the first time Wally had spoken about the fire. His voice sounded small and desperate.

“They were burned alive,” Timmy said, sounding harsher than he intended. “It wasn’t quick.”

“Oh…” Wally’s voice cracked and Timmy knew he was crying again. He hadn’t really stopped crying since. “It’s not right. ‘Ow could someone do that! There was kids in there!” Wally sobbed.

“I know…” Timmy croaked.

He opened his eyes and realised his own cheeks were wet. He looked over and saw Wally was hunched over, hugging himself, tears flowing freely down his grime covered cheeks.

“It’s evil,” he said. “Wot did they do to anyone? They weren’t villains! They woz just normal people living their lives. Why would someone do that?”

“Coz…” But Timmy didn’t have an answer.

“They can’t get away with it!” Wally said, his eyes glistened with tears but his voice was hard. “Someone… someone ‘as to do sumfin. They ought to be hanged!”

“No one will,” Timmy said quietly. “Not with all this going on. There’s riots on the street, Wally, we’re barely holding on to this part of the city. Who knows what’s going on elsewhere. By the time it’s all settled… no one will even remember.”

“I’ll remember!” Wally snarled, standing up and pointing his finger at himself. “I won’t forget! I can’t… I won’t let them get away wiv it!”

“What can you do, Wally?” Timmy said he was too exhausted to explain the reality of the situation to him.

“I can… well… I’m a copper! I’ll arrest them!”

“Arrest who? And how? Every copper’s on the barricades.”

“Then I’ll do it by myself!”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Timmy looked at him again. His face was covered in soot, tears, and snot, but his eyes were full of fire. He had never seen Wally even flirt with being determined, now he looked like even a mob of Trolls couldn’t stop him.

“You really mean it?”

“Come on Tim! You’re the one always tellin’ me about the badge and being a copper and justice and all that! Where’s the justice ‘ere? A whole family burned to death in their beds just because they look different! And whoever done it just gets to get away wiv it?”

“But what can we do?”

“We’re coppers! Aren’t we?”

“Well… yes.”

“Then let’s be coppers! We find out who done it and we show ‘em the long, ‘eavy, bloody stick of the law!”

“But what about the barricades…”

“Sod that! I’m not standing another night bein’ bloody fodder for mobs of Goblins! And anyway… they got a point. Their own creatures was murdered in cold blood and we go and arrest their leader! I’d be right bloody pissed off too!”

“I guess… when you say it like that. But we’ll get in trouble, we can’t just abandon our posts.”

“You fink anyone will even notice?”

“No… but if we get caught…”

“As long as we catch the bastards first I don’t care.” Wally crossed his arms across his chest defiantly. “Come on Tim, ‘ave you got my back?” Wally looked at him earnestly, with just an edge of desperation.

Timmy opened his mouth and then shut it quickly and pursed his lips.

“We’re mates aren’t we?”

“We are.”

“Then, yeah, of course I’ve got your back.”

“Yes!” Wally punched the air and then hugged Timmy ferociously.

Timmy laughed and hugged him back. They slapped each other’s backs and then hugged again, their laughter tinged with slight mania. After a few minutes of celebrating, they looked at each other soberly.

“So… ‘ow are we gonna find them?”

“Umm…” Timmy scrunched up his face in thought. “Well, we know they were Humans, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the only Humans that would do something like that are probably from out West.”

“Yeah, they’re bloomin’ bonkers over there. All that anti-Goblin shite ‘as gotten real big across the bridge.”

“So we just need to find out which Humans hate Goblins enough to commit murder.”

“I don’t fink that list is gonna be too small. Most of the Landlord’s boys would love a chance to clip some Goblins,” Wally said.

“Yeah, but I don’t think the Landlord did this. Killing civilians just ain’t… it just doesn’t happen, right?”

“True,” Wally said, nodding his head. “So maybe it wasn’t his mob.”

“Right. The person I saw looked pretty young. I only saw him for a moment, but I wouldn’t bet he was older than us.”

“So could be just some young punks tryna make a name for themselves.”

Timmy nodded excitedly.

“Yeah exactly! So they get together, ride through the Goblin Quarter and torch a place to prove how hard they are!”

“Yeah! Like tryna earn their stripes of sumfin.”

“Yes! So we need to look for a group of humans around our age that would be capable of this. That list has gotta be smaller.”

“‘As to be! But, I don’t really know anyone from across the bridge. All them kids are a bit mad in the ‘ead.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

They stood around looking at their shoes for a minute.

“Wait… I know someone who would!” Wally said excitedly.

“Who?”

“Charlie would! ‘E’s from round there!”

“You mean Corporal Nelson?”

“Yeah! ‘E was born across the bridge! If anyone would know, it would be ‘im!”

“Good idea, Wally!” Timmy said, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Wally said, nodding before his eyes turned dark again. “We find whoever these scumbags are and we make ‘em pay. Right, Tim?”

“Right.” They looked at each other and nodded determinedly, neither wanting to acknowledge the danger of their mission.

“We’re gonna make ‘em pay!”